


Salve

by Beryllium_Astatine



Series: Some Nonsense Eating Love Away [2]
Category: Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Alternate Universe - Werewolf, Alternate Universe - Werewolves Are Known, Canon Compliant, F/M, Ishval Civil War, Young Royai, not a/b/o
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-18
Updated: 2021-02-03
Packaged: 2021-03-16 06:29:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 17,827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28826730
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Beryllium_Astatine/pseuds/Beryllium_Astatine
Summary: Roy and Riza go through Changes, for the first time.Part of a Werewolf AU fic series.
Relationships: Riza Hawkeye/Roy Mustang
Series: Some Nonsense Eating Love Away [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2087691
Comments: 18
Kudos: 28





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> CW for this chapter: Mild body horror
> 
> Thank you again @lantur for the beta, this was a lot of work <3

Roy sneezed three times in a row, so violently he bowed his head between his knees. A “bless you” was three times repeated by a thin voice coming from the other side of the study.

“D’ank you,” Roy sniffed, wiping his eyes. “Sorry, I’ve been feeling under the weather lately.”

The blonde teenager curled up in an old armchair looked up from her History book. “Why are you sorry?”

Roy hit his head on the edge of the desk before meeting her eyes, and quickly realized it was a serious question. “Uh. For sneezing and sniffing and distracting you, maybe? Or for being sick around you?”

The girl lowered her eyes to the book again, and shrugged matter-of-factly. “That’s nothing to be sorry about.” They fell silent for a few seconds, until Roy realized she wasn't going to say anything else, and he turned back to his desk to continue cataloguing. Riza Hawkeye, his teacher's daughter, sometimes asked to do her school homework in the study while he was there. She was always quiet as a mouse, and sometimes brought them snacks, so Roy didn't mind her presence at all.

(And Miss Riza took him walking in the woods, helped him with experiments, and cooked for him. They didn't talk much, and he didn’t think a lot about her, but he didn't mind her presence to any degree).

But he feared he was bothering her with noise. Roy had been sneezing and coughing since the previous day. He still couldn't tell if it was a settling cold or an allergic reaction like the ones that were so frequent when he was little. It felt completely different from anything he experienced before. His face wasn’t swollen, and he didn't feel the headache that normally arrived with a cold. He was a little hot, so perhaps he had a fever, but he felt more energetic at that moment than he had in the past month.

"You're not bothering me," Riza announced, guessing his thoughts. "I'm too deep into my studies."

Roy frowned. "You walked out of here three times since you arrived, and you've been sighing loud enough to bore me by proxy, Miss Riza."

As if on cue, she sighed, staring outside the dirty window. “I’m just… I don't like the Cabbage Plague of 1750."

"Is there any way to enjoy a plague?" Roy smirked, raising his eyebrows.

"No, I don't think so." Riza flipped a page, and Roy pouted at his missed joke. "But it's about vegetables, and medieval times, and I don’t specifically mind either.” She frowned a little. “It’s especially disheartening how Weres got persecuted because people thought they transmitted it."

"Yeah, but it was Weres who also found the cure, and prevented the plague from spreading to other crops." Roy turned to see Riza looking at him with a blank stare. "You know, alchemists."

“Ah.” Riza flipped another page ahead, skimming it with her index finger. "You're right. Something with the fertilizer compounds, right?"

Roy sniffled, nodding. Silence fell as they sifted through their own papers, lost in thought.

"Aren't you afraid?"

The sound of pen scratching paper stopped in the room. Roy swallowed a cough, puffing his cheeks to hold his breath when he turned to her.

Her lips pursed at the sight, and she cleaned her throat to disguise a chuckle. "Aren't you afraid of when you become… of becoming a Were? Eventually?"

"Being an alchemist is already kind of an occupational hazard, I think." Roy shrugged. "The fact we all become Weres is just something we need to accept. And it doesn't sound that bad."

"Sparking sounds real bad."

"Master Hawkeye seems to have no issues with it."

"Father gets sick easily," Riza countered. "And Sparks when he has a fever. You don't see it because he runs to the woods, but I get worried because Wereness makes him fragile."

"Wereness doesn't make you sick!" Roy fully turned towards her. "And soon alchemists will figure out how to stop Sparks. We'll be able to Change only when you choose to--"

Another chain of sneezes followed, making Roy's ears ring and speckling the file he was writing on with saliva. It was followed by a fit of coughing, and Roy felt his mouth wet with mucus. He pulled his handkerchief and tried to be as discreet as possible, turning from Riza's sight.

"Are you alright, Mr. Mustang?" Roy heard her walking across the cramped office, and soon a warm touch ran up his back. He tried to compose himself at the sudden flushing of his face. That only made his throat feel more swollen, and a new coughing fit started. 

The door to the study creaked open and the owner of the house came in, carrying two crates with delicate glass containers in his arms. He found his student curled over himself, in a mess of mucus and coughing on the already damp handkerchief, while his daughter helplessly rubbed his back.

"What's wrong, Roy?" Berthold Hawkeye croaked, carefully settling the crates beside the armchair.

"He's been sick all day," Riza replied, rubbing Roy's back with wider movements. "Looks like a cold, but he didn't look that bad yesterday. He's been studying and--"

" _\--ergies!_ " The rasp coming from Roy's throat was almost unintelligible, and he tried to gulp enough air to make way through the mucus. He sneezed twice still. "Could be _allerdies_. I used to have rhinitis as a _liddle_ kid."

"Perhaps. But I've had a runny nose since yesterday, again. We might just have caught a cold." Berthold cleaned his hands and sniffed, taking his handkerchief from his pocket and blowing his nose in it. Roy heard his steps approaching before a new fit made him deaf and red-faced.

"Father?" Riza's voice sounded distant in his daze, but the apprehension in it was obvious. Roy inhaled as deeply as he could, and blinked away the tears to take a look at his master.

Berthold Hawkeye was frozen in place, fixing him with a hard stare that bored through him. Roy was suddenly pinned in his chair, his chest heaving with difficulty. He felt sneezes coming up again, and fought the urge, as if his life would be at risk if he averted his eyes from his master's.

Hiccups shook him whole instead, and Roy’s knees buckled. He coughed and spat so vigorously his body collapsed to the floor, desperately gasping for air, tears streaking his cheeks. He felt Riza kneeling beside him, yelling something Roy couldn't understand through the pressure inside his ears.

Roy was abruptly yanked to his feet, his breath catching as a man's arm compressed his stomach. He wobbled, disoriented, and Riza grabbed his arm. “Father, stop!” She cried, sinking her fingers in the fabric. “You’re hurting him! He’s _purple!_ ”

“Let go, Riza.” A snarl resounded from above Roy’s head, and a strange shiver went down his spine. With difficulty, Roy turned his bleary eyes up and gasped. His throat closed once again, forcing him to spew more mucus to try to breathe.

Berthold stood menacing, his face covered in pale cream fur as the lower half of his face morphed into a muzzle. His clear blue eyes were enormous, pupils blown, with dark outlines following down the tip of his nose. The tip of two canines peeked from under his grimacing upper lip, but what scared Roy was his neck - slowly thickening and getting covered in white fuzz, the muscles resettling underneath the thin skin like a twisted abacus.

“Let go. He’s Changing,” Berthold growled again, more pointedly, and Roy felt Riza’s hands slipping from his arm. “You go to your room and stay there until I say it’s safe to come out.”

Tears freely rolled down Roy's face by then, his mouth open wide and his breath catching between coughs and hiccups. Still, he turned his head as Berthold dragged him out of the study by his middle and collar. Riza’s helpless expression made him want to try and say something, anything. Instead, he fell into another debilitating fit of sneezes.

“Don’t speak, boy. Try to breathe slowly, if you can. You’ll be fine.” The snarl got lower and more garbled the farther Berthold pulled Roy’s nearly limp body towards the kitchen door. “I promise.”

They crossed the threshold towards the backyard, bathed in late afternoon light. Berthold hauled Roy across the slate floor towards the grass, throwing him forwards into a lavender patch. Roy landed on his side, and immediately curled up in a fetal position while trying to breathe evenly, to no avail. He was shaking with messy sobs, dripping snot everywhere.

“Inhale,” Berthold muttered, crouching close to him. Roy struggled to obey, curling his shivering fingers around the lavender’s stems. “Exhale. Inhale, feel the flowers. Exhale.”

 _Riza planted this patch to make tea._ Roy’s head swam as he tried to concentrate on the lavender scent. _Will she be mad that I’m lying on them?_ He sneezed and flailed limply, coiling tighter under Berthold’s hushed assurances. 

The lavender snuck under Roy’s skin as a light embrace. _I’m sorry, Riza, I’m crushing your flowers._ His hand twitched and raked the bush, trying to reach a blossom. A dirt cloud came up, and Roy marvelled at the light dancing on it before returning his attention to the silky, breezy scent. _Thank you for them, they’re so pretty._

He coughed and spat again, scratching the ground and crying. His clothes tied him up like ropes. _The tea is so good too._ Roy felt a warm weight against his side, and hazily noticed a pale hand with dark claws encircling his arm. He sighed in relief. _Master Hawkeye also likes that tea._ Inhale. Exhale. _It feels so good._ Roy felt hot all over, at once, and shut his eyes tightly. Berthold pushed him further. _I’m sorry,_ he moaned in a whirlpool of fever, gasping at intervals. Heat pooled in his articulations, pulling his nerves in maddening thrusts, and steering his mind into the strict comfort of habit.

_Veritas ita se habet et non est dubium,_

_quod inferiora superioribus et superiora inferioribus respondent._

The Truth is the Truth is the Truth they all sought out. He straightened his fingers, and the tips were rough against the foliage. Roy wasn’t sure what was sweat, tears, or mucus anymore.

_Operator miraculorum unus solus est Deus,_

_a quo descendit omnis operacio mirabilis._

He was suddenly aware of being handled and stripped naked, and the roughness of the movements was quickly supplanted by an absurd relief at his bareness. His lower back ached in tandem with his diaphragm, a lancinating pressure irradiating to his knees and weakening his calves. His organs bent and moved, and Roy choked in a bizarre extasis. A miracle in reverse operated by forces so obscure even a young atheist could only conclude they were God-made.

_Sic omnes res generantur ab una sola substancia, una sua sola disposicione._

_Quarum pater est Sol, quarum mater est Luna._

He was melting, so Master Hawkeye was the Sun, heavy over him. Aunt Chris was his mother in the dark, his Moon--

_Que portavit ipsam naturam per auram in utero, terra impregnata est ab ea._

Him and the lavender blooming beneath his body. Pollen peppering his bowels, with shrubs thriving in the hollows of chambers and sinuses. Each vertebrae linked by the stems, petals crowning each valve of his heart, and blades of grass and teeth erupting in rousing pain. Cartilage roots irrigated in blood, and his clawed nails ploughing the whorling perfume of sunset and vinegar and Riza’s hair.

 _Breathe, Roy._ Master Hawkeye’s murmur rumbled through his bones. Roy heard a buzzing inside his head, echoing his whimpers. His nose was cooling so fast it hurt, and he sniffled again, flailing. The imbalance almost threw him belly up, because his body wasn’t his body.

Roy cried for Chris in terror, but he didn’t recognize his own voice, nor the taste of dirt and bile in his wide, wide mouth. Master Hawkeye’s thick neck pressed down against Roy’s head, a presence of copper rust and ash completely overpowering his senses. Roy thought Master was humming, and he opened his eyes.

He yelped at the desaturated evening. A yellow streak marred the sky on the horizon, and the crushed lavender cobs were a mesmerizing blue, but everything else had lost vibrancy and steadiness. The porch was a tall blotch, and the greenery confounded itself with the soil. Roy choked on his spit, his mind racing back to the red ink he drew with on his books, to the rainbow of women’s dresses at the bar, to the gold and purple pie Riza left on his desk.

 _Her eyes are now grey_ , he gasped, a new dread churning his insides. He bumped upwards against his Master and scratched the ground as if running, yapping and crying for Riza again and again. Her patch of lavender was destroyed, and if somehow he had made her look blurred, he… he--

Master Hawkeye fully weighted over him against the dirt, his furry throat over Roy’s cheek. _Later_ , he whined. _Her, later._

 _Please,_ Roy shrilled like a baby.

 _You like her_. Master Hawkeye’s voice was very gentle in Roy’s ear. Roy recoiled slightly, but Master licked the corners of his eyes, and the touch was patient and smelled even more of copper rust. 

_Yes._ Roy sniffled, his eyelids quivering with new tears. Master Hawkeye resumed whining, and Roy’s sobs eventually subsided to let him mimic the sound. They sang together, softly, their chests moving against the dirt in the backyard like one, in a world that had become a sketch splattered with perfume. Roy felt his body finally relax in the scented notes of their lullaby - his strained limbs finding stock in shorter fingers and curved nails, the hypnotic movement of his extended spine he couldn’t see yet, the hair - all the hair.

And sweetly, very sweetly, Roy let his consciousness fade into lavender.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW for this chapter: Mentions of suicide
> 
> Thank you again @lantur for the beta, this was a lot of work <3

The days following his First Change were a molten blur. 

Odors dripped onto each other, overlapping into textures. Flavors bloomed where none existed, like mold in a newly built house. His steps skidded on fresh grass, on wooden floors, on the bathroom tiles, wading a river of solid surfaces. And the flurry of heat, the fever that sustained his heartbeats and melted his bone marrow in a never-ending race, didn't subside when muscle couldn't sustain him further.

At some point, he thrashed on the bed. He remembered the pressure blowing his lungs outwards in the dark. He remembered trembling hands over him, unbuttoning his shirt and making him flinch under chilly fingertips. He pinned those palms against his chest, sniffing, and revelled in the sensation.

Some other time, he floated on the hallway, his own palms damp under those same hands. He remembered the needling relief of ice, and remembered sleep coming easily like a blessing when he tumbled down on fresh sheets. He felt fingertips brushing his wet hair from his brow, and sighed in comfort.

It took an entire day for Roy to remember his own name, and another for his eyesight to regain all colors. But he recognized the shape of Riza's hands aiding him, and in the morning when he was finally able to get to the kitchen to eat, Roy sighed in relief when he saw her eyes were still the same deep honey hue.

Those eyes were huge and petrified, slowly brightening, until Riza shook her head. Another piece of bacon went on the fizzling pan she held on the fire. She turned to the table with a rigid posture of determination, inhaling sharply to match her frown.

"Still not scared?" She served him a glass of orange juice, her voice thin to disguise its quiver.

"Horrified," Roy whispered hoarsely. "It's like my body aches simply to exist. I'm like a ghost."

The cup shook in his hand. It had lost some tonus, it seemed. Roy recoiled, taking deep breaths, before clasping the cup with both hands and bringing it to his lips.

Riza's breathed chuckle at the scene betrayed her. She held herself, trying to tone a smile down, in a losing attempt to disguise her joy and relief. "Ghosts can't feel anything, though."

Roy set the glass on the table with a purposefully pouty grimace, like when he was hit on his pride. It worked: Riza grabbed her arms tighter, squirming with giggles.

"Oh, excuse me, Miss Hawkeye, ghost scholar extraordinaire." He did a mocking posh accent that tipped Riza into laughter, hugging her middle. "Let us hear you talk about the body sensitivity of ghosts, spirits and apparitions. Does that mean they're not ticklish?"

With unexpected speed, Roy poked Riza on the side, making her squeal and wiggle away. "The researcher is. Does that prove anything?" Roy settled back, feeling his energy waning already, and took another sip of his juice, chuckling despite his achy face.

The pan was already whistling as Riza escaped to its side, trying to recover her composure as she slid the bacon on an old plate and took it to Roy. She pushed a tray with butter and the bread basket in his direction and sat across from him, still flushed, as he took a bite of the meat and one from a bun.

"I want to do it again." Roy muttered, after several minutes of wolfing down breakfast. "It feels strange but…  _ right _ . Like when you bike down a hill and you fall, but everything before falling was so good you go and try again. And I don't even  _ remember _ what happened. Did you see anything?"

"A little," hummed Riza, sipping some tea. "You and Father ran to the woods as wolves. Two hours later you returned, and you were both turning back. You collapsed and I had to help carry you to bed, and I got an earful for spying and not staying in my room."

"And then?"

Riza shrugged. "You were sick for two days. My father got sick, too." She sniffed, averting her eyes. "He was conscious, so he bathed you, but then he was too weak for anything. I took care of you two." She looked at him, and Roy noticed the dark rings under her eyes. "You got such a fever I made you get into a cold bath. Do you remember that? You were walking and mumbling nonsense."

Roy blushed intensely. "No. I'm sorry you had to--"

"You had you sleeping clothes on," she interrupted. "And you managed to change them on your own afterwards. It's okay."

The silence that followed was uncanny to Roy, even in his embarrassment. "You screamed a lot," she quietly added. "Even when it was only dog sounds, it was desperate."

Roy felt a draft of memories assault him. Her hands. The scent of her hair in the whirlpool of Change. His own voice, calling her name. "I ruined your lavender," he rasped, instead.

They turned their heads together towards the door to the backyard, which was creaked open. "You did, but that's okay." Riza sighed. "It was for that, anyway. For Sparks. Lavender is calming. That's why my father takes a lot of tea. It was providential."

Roy looked down, carving a piece of bread. His eyelids were heavy after the effort of getting up. "I'll help you plant a new patch, if you'd like."

He offered her the crumb, and Riza took it and flicked it into her mouth, shrugging again. "Okay."

They exchanged smiles until Berthold Hawkeye entered the room.

The next morning Roy was placed in a train by his teacher, and sent back to his home in Central with instructions of returning in two weeks, or more if he fully Sparked again. When he returned, there was a new lavender patch, and Riza wouldn't talk about Weres ever again.

* * *

Roy was in Ishval for 15 months. Riza arrived a little before Order 3066 was decreed, some three months later.

After their first meeting, when she questioned why the Flame Alchemy they both inherited was being used that way, he couldn't bear to look at her anymore.

State Alchemists stayed in a dedicated camp, a privileged hill with exclusive hygiene facilities. Roy didn't have much to talk about with most of his fellow State Alchemists - not after Major Armstrong was dishonorably discharged. On the other hand, sniper squads formed close-knit groups, telescopic sights on each other’s backs at every moment, and Riza’s Charlie squad was the closest of all.

Every time Roy considered approaching his old friend, everyone in the Charlie squad shot dirty looks at him. Major Hallow, their commander, was fat and polite, but the other sets of eyes protectively circling Riza made sure Roy understood his presence was seen as a threat. He consoled himself on the belief she was being watched over, even babied a little. She shared her tent with a big homosexual Dublither named Bigby who called her “little sister”. Hughes pointed out that Riza was the youngest and looked fragile, and so probably reminded those men of sisters and nieces they had left behind.

When Bigby couldn’t take it anymore and followed the limp trail of soldiers towards the line of fire, Charlie Squad had been mellowing into the nauseous indifference of war for many months. Hostility towards Roy began breaking down with grief and dirt. He finally managed to get closer to Riza on a more constant basis, although not without suspicion.

“If you harm her,” the squad’s only Were, Farrah, snarled at him one night behind the kitchen barracks, both mid-Changed and baring teeth, “you’ll see she had more than one big brother, sir.”

Roy was many ranks above Farrah. He was physically stronger. He was carrying his gloves. But he did nothing but retreat to his tent, alone, once Farrah left.

As the conflict went on, less and less soldiers stayed to protect one another. As per Roy’s suggestion, Riza requested her Commanding Officer to move her now individual tent to an area closer to the State Alchemists’ area. Roy moved to the barracks, closer to her new location, once Hallow grudgingly acquiesced. He also made a habit of walking Riza to her tent every night and picking her up every morning. Sometimes he arrived from an operation when she had already retired, sometimes she left for missions before he had risen, but he did his best to stick to that routine.

At least, it seemed, it was nearly over. He had helped decimate almost all districts already - only one remained, and they were in it. Roy was getting the least amount of sleep in all his time in Ishval in those last weeks, He tried to burn it off by being more assiduous on the activities he got used to doing during his insomnia: rounding around the camp, talking to the sentinels, and guarding the young and the women when they hit the shower barracks. His alertness level was irrelevant - he needed to keep moving, to keep alive.

Soon they would be home from Ishval. 

“My C.O. thinks we’re having an affair,” Riza bluntly informed him from within the shower stall one night. Her words snapped Roy from his reverie outside. He was keeping guard while she prepared for the night, a task he had taken over after Bigby’s death. “He’s not the only one.”

Roy raised his head, and blushed a little. “I can see why.” He pursed his lips a little with guilt. Of course - a State Alchemist carefully looking after a teenage cadet would raise suspicions everywhere. Farrah and the others had reasons to be wary. Riza would be returning to the Academy after all that, too, and rumors could be damaging to her reputation. “Is this causing problems?”

“Just some teasing,” Riza replied, after a short silence. “My squad says I hit the jackpot, and that I should hurry and trap you with a baby ASAP. Then I could leave service and mooch from your salary for the rest of my days through child support.”

Roy let out a laugh of surprise and relief. “Would you like that?”

No response came, and water stopped running soon after. He turned, and found Riza peeking from a slit in the curtains with a deep frown - but more of annoyance than of disgust. Roy smiled an apology at her.

“It’s not like they’re virgins eagerly following anti-frat laws after so long in here,” she continued, closing the slit. “But I thought you should know, just in case that’s… bothersome, going forward.”

Roy scoffed humorlessly. In that bloodstained backland where he murdered people with a snap of his fingers almost every day, that would be the last thing to even catch his attention. It’s not like he hadn’t heard much more insidious comments of that nature about him and Hughes, even back in the Academy. “It’s alright, as long as it doesn’t bother you, Riza. You’re allowed to joke back at my expense, too.”

He heard the curtains’ metal rings chime, and stepped forward from the wall he had been leaning against to meet Riza coming out of the shower barracks. She had a towel over her shoulders, scrubbing her hair dry with another. “Yes, sir,” she curtly muttered in reply. The inadequacy Roy didn’t feel with the sexual assumptions about the two of them made itself present in that laconic phrase.

And then she walked past him.

“Major?!” Roy blinked, realizing what had just happened. He had stepped forward towards Riza, and firmly grabbed her arm. She was staring at him, perplexed, her other arm halfway from using a defensive maneuver by reflex.

Roy wanted to let go of her and apologize, and try to understand how he had suddenly done that without noticing. Somehow he knew  _ why _ \- and that knowledge operated as an obstacle to his self-control.

“You smell funny,” was all he could force out. Riza creased her forehead in deeper confusion.

“I - I use the same soap as everyone else,” she blurted, alarm rising in her voice.

“It’s not that,” hissed Roy. “ _ You _ smell funny.”

Riza waited, frozen in place, her breathing slightly shaky.  _ Damn, _ he thought, _ her stress makes it stronger. Why didn’t she say anything? _

“You’re- You’re Changing,” Roy finally managed to explain, confused, in a near rasp. “You’re close to a Change. You never told me you had Were’d, cadet.”

Even in the dimly lit area, it was easy to see Riza’s eyes flying wide open. “I didn’t!” She gasped, trying to pull her arm free. Roy loosened his grip, and Riza quickly slipped away, putting several steps between them. “I didn’t take the inductive injection they offered in the Academy. Several colleagues did, but I didn’t.”

“And you never… Changed naturally?”

“No!” Riza rubbed the reddening mark on her upper arm. “A few colleagues who took the inductive shots didn’t develop it, either. Because I’m past the normal Changing age I didn’t think--”

“There’s no ‘normal’ age. It can happen at any time. It’s just more common during puberty." Roy ran his hand through his hair. " I’m sorry about that.” He pointed at her arm with genuine regret, and she nodded, a bit warily. “But, Riz- Cadet, that was instinct speaking. You’re close to a Change, I’m sure of it.”

Riza recoiled slightly, shock fading from her features to give way to fear. She looked around nervously, and so did Roy, but at that time of night there was no one to eavesdrop.

“What do I do?” She muttered, reapproaching him with caution. “Everyone who Changed out of control here gets so ill, or...” Riza let her voice trail off in a whisper, but Roy had already understood her apprehension.

“Not everyone who Changes involuntarily gets sick or mad,” he replied, in the most conciliatory tone he could manage. “But the… environment… is less than ideal to ensure safe Sparked Changes. It’s dangerous, and that’s why they encourage cadets to take the induction shots. That way Weres can have more time to learn to control themselves in high stress situations.”

“That didn’t work for Radden and Gill,” Riza snapped.

“It didn’t, no.” Jolen Radden and Iver Gill had suffered a Spark so violent that it severed their connections with reality, and they were trapped in an insanity between their Human and their Wolf. “But it worked with almost everyone else. Every Were goes through a Spark at some point, even if it’s just their First Change.” Roy didn’t add that Radden and Gill were but the most obvious cases of Were Madness at the front. He learned from fellow Weres that at least three other cases happened in the last months alone.

Roy had seen their alleged graves, but who knew how many Weres got put down from the sheer suspicion of madness?

“Still, it’s not a situation to be taken lightly,” Roy continued, before Riza could arrive at the same conclusion. He stood up straighter. “Hawkeye, with your permission, I’d like to talk to your C.O. about this tomorrow. I have a hunch they won’t be able to normally detect your upcoming Change. Once they do, it might be too late for an emergency Change blocker to take effect.”

“Yes, sir,” Riza said, mechanically. Roy frowned, suddenly exhausted. After everything - with everything - that girl was receiving a final blow to what most people perceived as one’s humanity. She went through the war only to become a monster - a literal one.

He was about to reach out to touch her shoulder as they walked back to her tent, when he saw the red grasp mark on Riza’s upper arm. Roy recoiled, furious at himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> CW for this chapter: None that I'm aware of
> 
> Thank you again @lantur for the beta.

The next day, Roy confirmed he had been correct in his assumption: Riza’s Commanding Officer, Major Hallow, took their suspicion of an upcoming First Change with incredulity. Upon his insistence, though, Farrah was ordered to try and confirm it. They excused themself and sniffed Riza, even leaning on the back of her neck and close to her armpits, but claimed not to feel anything. Roy was irreducible.

"Go mid-Change and try again," he ordered, and Farrah obliged, with a stare. Once their face was nearly completely covered in reddish fuzz and his nose and mouth had morphed into a snout, they leaned towards Riza once more. This time they yanked their head back after sniffing behind her ears, pupils wide.

"Yes," Farrah barked to Hallow. "Faint. But _yes_.”

"Are you sure?" Hallow insisted, trying to disguise his surprise. Farrah nodded vigorously after a double-check. Hallow, still astonished, signed Riza a slip for the medical area. 

Doctor Knox looked at them with the same incredulity once he heard Riza's explanation and read the slip, although his weariness masked most of it. He turned to Mustang first. "Were you in your Wolf when you sensed it?"

"No, I was in my Human. I haven't Changed at all in the last two weeks."

"What were you doing when that happened?" Knox asked Riza.

"I was coming out of the shower, sir. Literally drying my hair. Major Mustang noticed the scent when I walked past him," Riza hunched a little, nervous. "Sir, why does everyone act surprised at him noticing it? I can't feel anything different, but the scent was powerful enough he grabbed me by the arm by instinct."

Roy, who was slightly behind her, felt his face going red and kicked himself in his mind. Dr Knox raised his eyebrows.

"Is that so? Well, often Weres can sense when others are close to a Change, but that's not an easy feat when they're both in their Human. It's a very rare occurrence hours or days before one's stronger symptoms of a First Change. I personally have never seen it before," Knox replied, unfazed. "I don't know why the Major is so sensitive to your scent, Cadet Hawkeye," he added, in a tone that made it clear he had quite an idea of why the Major was sensitive to the Cadet's scent. Riza shifted, confused. Roy wanted to hide his face in his hands.

“In any case, congratulations, you’re a puppy. What’s your concern?” Dr Knox sighed, leaning against his rackety seat.

“I’d like to postpone my Change,” Riza answered, a little too quickly. “For as long as possible. There has been talk about the conflict ending soon. If it can be blocked for a few weeks, perhaps I’ll have the chance to be in East City when it hits. If not, at least I can prepare for it.”

Knox let out a rough chuckle. “If you’re already reeking of Wolf, there’s no retarding it for ‘weeks’, sweetheart. A blocker shot will now work for one week, two at very best. You should have bitten the bullet back in the Academy. You may be helping dig up trenches soon.”

“I’ll make sure she’s safe,” assured Roy, with uncharacteristic coldness.

“I’m sure you will,” Dr Knox replied disinterestedly, scribbling on a slip of paper and handing it to Riza. “Cadet, please follow the hallway to the right and talk to Nurse Hanni. She’ll administer the shot and give you all the necessary instructions.”

“Thank you, sir.” Riza saluted both men and half-skittered away to the other room.

Knox turned his attention to Roy. “Anything I can help you with, Major? A penicillin shot, perhaps, for private matters you’re too embarrassed to inform the girl about?"

Roy grimaced. “No, thank you. I’ll be going.” He left the medical barracks feeling even hotter than normal in Ishval. 

* * *

The daily routine of carnage wiped all embarrassment from that episode, though, at least until Roy was sitting in front of his tent, staring blankly ahead.

"It's almost over.” Hughes's voice sounded like a prayer beside him. Roy took a gulp of his beer. "We'll be back to our homes. To our women."

Roy said nothing.

"Speaking of," Hughes shifted to look at him, taking a last gulp of his beer and crushing the can with his boot. "You're rather _going_ home with yours, aren't you?"

Their camp was one of the last standing; others had been dismantled as the massacre got more successful. Roy watched the bustle of privates and officials who all could see the signs of the end of the conflict.

"Silence lends assent," smirked Hughes. Roy groaned, and received a light jab.

"She's not my woman, asshole."

"What, she's non-binary?"

Roy glared, making Hughes bark a short, unamused laugh. "Hawkeye is a kind person, and your friend from before the military. Perhaps you could help each other out."

Roy grunted what could almost be a chuckle, and finished his beer with a gulp. "I can't inflict that kind of fate on her."

"But she stumbled upon _another_ kind of fate, didn't she?" Roy's hand clenched around the empty can. Hughes had that piercing stare again, despite his casual tone. "I think she's the first lady wolf I've seen. They're rarer, right?"

"Wrong." There was a beat of hesitation before he took the new beer can Hughes offered him. "You're observant, but also real dumb, Maes."

"Ooh, 'Maes'. All right," Hughes hummed, taking a generous sip from his beer. "Is that why you've been following her around? To help keep her secret?"

"Why would Hawkeye keep that a secret?"

"I don't know. To avoid being sent on Were-specific missions, perhaps. You're the wolf, you tell me."

"I've been following her around the same way you’ve been following Carr and Arlington, and Fanner and Dornela watch their keep: so the youngest are safe.”

Hughes raised one eyebrow, then both. “So you really think you treat Hawkeye the same way we treat our keeps? That is an actual belief that you have? Okay, you know what, nevermind.” He waved when Roy opened his mouth to object. “But you’re looking at her weird now. Like you’re being drawn to her. Is that a wolf thing?”

The can warmed between Roy’s hands. “Yes, but it feels… unusual,” he finally conceded.

“How so?” Hughes’s eyes glinted. He was too curious, and too eager to ignore his surroundings, not to prod further. Roy relented, sighing, because he felt the latter deep in his bones.

“Anyone can, in theory, become a Were. You know that, don’t you?”

“Yes. Something about Chimeras from thousands of years ago mixing up with humans. And that’s also why every Alchemist ends up a Were, at some point.”

“Correct.” Roy took a sip of his (now quite warm) beer. “But there’s a bloodline element to it. Children of Were parents have a higher likelihood to Change. It’s not determinant, but that’s why there are traditionally Were families in Amestris.”

“Like the Armstrongs,” Hughes stepped on his empty can, kicking it to join the first one.

“Like the Armstrongs. Hawkeye’s father was a Were - he was an alchemist - and so was her mother. But Master Hawkeye once told me he hoped Riza--” Roy winced at using her first name in front of Hughes; it sounded wrong somehow. “wouldn’t become one. He made her take blockers and sent me back to Central for two weeks after I recovered from my First, until I could control myself well enough and not Spark at random.”

“Was he afraid you’d attack her?”

“No. Weres influence one another.” The flick Roy gave his can sent it zooming to the other side of the tents. “We can fairly easily cause each other Sparks, the involuntary Changes, and sense each other’s presence if we end up in packs. And people going through their First Change, the Pups, are like Were beacons. They're loudly signaling they need protection. Any Were who is so much as close to a Pup feels inclined to look after them during that period, and those Weres often instinctively Spark because of it. It’s a feedback loop."

"I know," Hughes said flatly. "They set us traps using their Pups." 

Roy nodded gravely, and continued after a pause. “Pups induce Sparks, which means uncontrollable Changes. That includes First Changes, creating new Weres. Hawkeye’s father kept me away from his daughter for a while so I wouldn’t accidentally instill a First Change in her through my own.”

"So Hawkeye is now broadcasting her First Change, and that makes you more protective of her?"

"Exactly.”

“And what’s unusual about it?” Hughes grabbed two more cans, now bright orange, and offered Roy one. “Soft drinks after alcohol restore your sugar levels, Roy. Gotta be healthy,” Hughes offered, under the guise of explanation, when Roy scowled at him.

“Fine.” Roy grabbed one and opened it, grumbling under his breath. “What’s unusual is…” He toyed with the can ring on his fingertips. “Weres in their Human are pretty much humans. We don’t have a much better hearing or sense of smell. If you’re as much as midway into your Wolf, you can tell ahead of time - hours, days even - when someone is going to begin their First Change. But if you’re in your Human, that aura - we call it ‘aura’ because it’s not just the smell - isn’t usually detectable until the Pup is just about to grow fur.”

“And you noticed it in your Human?” Hughes frowned.

“Yes. At least 12 hours ahead. She had time to get a blocker and all.” Roy massaged between his eyes, shoulders falling slightly. “They say packs - families, close friends, lovers, you know - are more sensitive to those things. The doctor knows that and reached the same conclusion everyone else, including you and her squad, got to. But Hawkeye and I were separated for years, and we kept our distance for months once we met here. We only truly reunited recently.”

Hughes watched him attentively, in silence, for a long time. “Perhaps you never stopped being a pack.” He set the can on the ground and crushed it. “And now you just picked things up from where you stopped.”

Roy shook his head. “I don't think we were a pack before. Even if we were, what you're saying is very unlikely. We grew apart. Found new friends, new packs.”

“Aw, I’m flattered.” Hughes batted his eyelashes, dodging Roy’s elbow in sequence. “You _have_ been sleeping with her, though,” he shot at once, lowering his voice. “Don’t try to deny it. 'Nothing can hide from the Wolf', isn't that the saying?" He smirked. “Because the wolf here can't hide for shit. I’ve been covering for you two dogs for weeks, now.”

Roy scoffed, chuckling clearly this time, and got up with a stretch. “I noticed. Thank you.” Hughes followed him, raising one eyebrow. “But you’re assuming wrong. We’ve been sleeping together, yes, but that’s _exactly_ what we’ve been doing. Sleeping.”

Hughes raised the other eyebrow. “You expect me to believe that?”

“I expect nothing from a jerk like you.” Roy shrugged, turning towards a siren sound. “Come on. Drill time.”

Hughes stared at Roy’s distancing back a while before nodding to himself with a smirk, and following suit.

* * *

They were transported back from Ishval five days after that. The cheers of relief were dreamlike, because nothing in a battlefield sounded real. Roy grounded himself in a brewing new goal, something to engraft onto his dreams and make them grow stronger. 

Roy decided Riza was going to be part of that future as they walked back in hollow silence to the camp after talking by the child’s grave, if she gave him the grace of her trust once more.

“Mister Mustang,” Riza murmured, as they waited in line to climb on a truck.

“Yes, Miss Riza?” Roy answered, softly, when she didn’t continue.

“There’s something else I need to ask you.”

“I know.” Even in the hustle and confusion of sweat, laughter, diesel smoke and sand, Roy was close enough to Riza’s neck to smell it - the scent of her upcoming Change. Even though other aura aspects weren’t clear, the odor - which had subsided after she took the blocker - was more accentuated than it had been in the showers. “I can sense it.”

Riza let out a quivering sigh. “I’m sorry.”

“There’s nothing to be sorry about,” Roy was so close he could see the glint of sweat on her jawline. “You cared for me when I went through my First Change. I would have been terrified for days if you weren’t around.”

He swallowed, looking at her profile. Riza wasn’t short or feeble, but she looked so small in that military indumentary, carrying her canvas backpack and equipment. “There’s an etiquette for it, though.” Riza turned to him, blankly. “Even though you requested it, I need to offer help.”

“Why? I don’t remember Father asking you anything.”

“I didn’t ask, either.” Roy shrugged under his equipment. “He was caught by surprise, and did what he had to do.”

Riza squinted a little, but nodded. “Alright. Go ahead.”

Shouts and the need to move onto the truck interrupted Roy as he opened his mouth, and halted their conversation for a long time. They shared nothing personal during the hours-long trip with their fellow soldiers towards the closest train station, where most of them would take the ride home. When Roy saw the dusty village approaching, he asked Riza for her journal and a pen, opening it to the last blank pages. He knew they’d be separated as soon as they touched the ground, so he took his time grabbing his belongings when the vehicle stopped and the men began disembarking.

“You live in the Eastern Academy dorms, don’t you?” Roy asked. Riza nodded. “It’s not private enough of a place for a First Change, so I’d rather we stayed in my childhood home, if you don’t mind.”

Roy handed her the journal and pen back. “I wrote down my aunt’s restaurant’s phone number and address, and the Central Headquarters’, too, just in case. I’ll call you at the dorms as soon as possible, tomorrow or right afterwards, to give you the bank order so you can withdraw cash in my name and buy the train ticket to and from Central. Don’t - I insist.” Roy raised his hand to interrupt Riza’s protest. “Invite me to the post-Change brunch and we’re even.”

Riza let out an acquiescent grunt, scanning the pages he had written on, and blinking. She shoved the journal in her backpack and turned back to him, nodding. Roy turned to get down, hearing her right behind him.

“Only the Change, right?” She yelped, uncharacteristically, and he looked back. “If so, I accept. But the other thing… we’ll leave it for another time. Alright?”

Roy stared at her for a long moment before nodding and jumping on the sandy ground.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Coming up next: Riza's First Change.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: Mild body horror, non-explicit and non-sexual nudity
> 
> Thank you, @lantur, for the beta.
> 
> [Here's a rough visual guide on how Werewolves look in this AU, with transformation stages.](https://brancadoodles.tumblr.com/post/641510545105846272/reference-of-the-transformation-of-werewolves-from)

Central City was a lot less arid than Ishval and the Eastern borders, and the sudden change of climate made Roy’s childhood rhinitis attack after a decade. He sneezed so hard that first night he woke up only a few short hours after he arrived at his aunt’s home, much before he could get any meaningful rest. Chris made him blueberry pancakes - his favorite - with flower honey, a fluffy omelette with goat cheese, and a jug of carrot juice for breakfast. 

She also embraced him tighter than ever when tears began spilling from Roy’s eyes in the middle of the meal. She didn’t let go, even when he sobbed his way into a Change and drooled cheese and basil onto her jacket, howling.

The next few days happened in a strange morosity compared to the charred reality of Ishval. Roy was thankful he had one thing of immediate importance in his mind to keep him from spiralling into the abyss sooner than later. He was stalling, and he knew he was, but if he stopped moving during his break he would probably lose all wind. Every time he talked to Riza on the phone to settle the specifics, he could identify Change spikes in her voice. He doubled his efforts, the hair on the back of his neck standing on end. 

So in the early afternoon of the fourth day after arriving at Central, Roy walked down to the Station’s platforms again. His nervousness at Riza’s arrival - and his responsibility - made him give up on the common courtesy of not presenting any Wolf in public. He swished a short thin tail under his overcoat while his pointy ears twitched at all sounds.

When Riza got off the train, hunched in a short military issued canvas coat, she was suffering from a long fit of coughs. Roy had to consciously block his immediate urge to fully Change the moment a draft raised her scent to his nose, making all the hairs in his body stand up.

He had planned to be a gentleman. Roy would greet Riza with proper manners and offer her the bag filled to the brim with homemade cookies Chris had helped him bake. He would take her luggage with his left arm and offer her his right one, and they would stroll to the car Roy had borrowed while he promised to show her every park and theatre in Central City. He would do his best to hear Riza giggle again, like when he tickled her nose with one of the old-timey quills on Master’s desk.

Instead, Roy found himself wordlessly dragging a red-nosed Riza by the arm towards the car while covering his face with a hand to avoid being overpowered by her scent. He apologized when he opened the back door for her, but he didn’t think she could hear him, as she immediately curled up on the seat and began whining between coughs. 

“Riza, you’ll be fine!” Roy tried to reassure her, rolling all the windows down, before starting the car. “Try to breathe evenly. We’ll be there soon. Kick twice if you understand me.”

Riza hooved the door once with each leg, and Roy sharply turned the wheel, swerving into traffic.

They arrived at Chris's restaurant in five minutes, and Roy prayed he wouldn't get a ticket from his poor parking. He put Riza's backpack on before carefully pulling her out of the vehicle. Riza was bravely trying to follow his instructions and breathe in a rhythm, but her face and neck were a deep red from the violent coughing fit. Her limbs flailed limply as she tried to find some balance.

Roy picked her up in a fireman carry, and sighed in relief when he saw Chris marching towards them. "Her room is ready, the way you asked," she grunted, snatching the keys that dangled from his hand. Roy was a bit surprised when she ran her fingers through Riza's sweaty bangs, before turning to him with her usual sharpness. "You'll be okay, my dear. _Go,_ boy, you're halfway already."

It was only when he had reached the back door to the joint and began clumsily kicking his shoes off that Roy understood the meaning of Chris's words. He was already on his way to mid-Change, his body almost completely covered in soft grey and white fuzz. He climbed the stairs, trying not to trip over his feet. Riza coughed so violently she began turning purple.

"It's gonna be over soon. I promise," Roy muttered, and his words came out as a whimper. He flung the spare room's door open, and was immediately relieved at the sweet scent that welcomed them.

He learned quite a bit on his own, and he had taken a course in the Academy on special care for minority groups in the troops - chronically ill and disabled people, women, and Weres, mostly. He even had the opportunity to help with a few colleagues’ First Changes. With that in mind, Roy spent his first days back from the battlefield carefully preparing for Riza's First Change to the best of his abilities. 

Ideally, the Pup should be placed in a familiar environment where they felt safe, with preference given to locations with access to an open space. Ideally, the Pup should be assisted by two to three people they trusted, with at least one of them being a Were. At the moment, only _one_ of those basics - maybe two, considering Chris was mindful of them - could be provided. Even then, Roy hoped Riza felt safe _enough_ with him to not suffer a panic attack on top of her Change.

But he made sure everything else was as adequate as he could manage. He pushed all the room's furniture to the wall and covered the floor with as many straw mats as he could afford, littering the surface with cushions and comforters. Roy also lowered the curtains and turned the bed so that the mattress was facing the wall, so they wouldn't run the risk of destroying it. He also found scrap wood and second-hand robust rubber toys they could exercise with, and covered the windows with semi-transparent parchment paper to ensure the right amount of light came in from outside. Finally, he requested Chris to order and prepare a few specific foods that were easy and healthy for a new Were, along with supplying the room with generous amounts of water and room-temperature chamomile tea.

The final touch was generously spraying the room with lavender essence.

Riza's coughing paused upon entering the bedroom. Roy silently cheered as he kicked two stuffed door weights to hold a creak open - just enough to have an easy way out once they were missing opposing thumbs. Roy stumbled to the middle of the room, and both of them discarded their jackets, tossing them aside. 

"Feel better now? Nod or shake your head, don't speak," puffed Roy, settling Riza down on a comforter. She was still clutching the high collar of her blouse, her breathing ragged, but managed a nod.

"Good." For the first time since her arrival, Roy could pay attention to her. Suffocation redness notwithstanding, Riza was still pale and thin, with dark rings around her eyes, just like him. But she was already halfway covered with cream-colored fuzz, her ears and the tip of her nose turning dark and triangular. There was a small bulge near her lower back that indicated her tail was already sprouting out. Roy looked at her coiled form, sobbing through tears and snot, and felt a wash of pity. He knelt beside her, bending down and sideways until they were face to face. Huge, terrified eyes stared back at him, bright with tears.

"Riza. Listen to me," Roy murmured, his tone gentle but firm. “I’m not going to hurt you. You’re not going to get hurt, no matter how scary it gets.” Their growing snouts were nearly touching. “You’re safe here. Nothing bad is going to happen. Do you understand?”

Riza nodded, crying softly.

“Good. Good girl.” Riza’s ears lowered slightly with the praise. Roy smiled at her in the most non-threatening way he could manage through both of their immense physical and emotional discomfort. 

Their muzzles were finally long enough that their noses finally touched, and all fur covering them swelled as if it had been a jolt of electricity. Riza gasped sharply and recoiled, kicking as the fits returned at once. The fur on her arms thickened in waves each time Riza coughed, her face growing miserably red again. Several seconds went by in a daze Roy couldn't snap out of. He lunged forward to position himself over Riza, caging her shuddering form between his arms and legs, and focusing on his mission once more.

Roy cooed hushed assurances, but Riza was getting more worked up by the second, pulling her collar down. The comforter was growing damp with sweat and spit. She curled tighter over herself, and Roy’s heart ached when he realized she was instinctively trying to appear tiny as a defense mechanism. Riza was reaching mid-change at that point: her body was solidly covered in yellow and white fur, and her head was already nearly completely lupine, with a long, round snout. Her hair was already meshing with her growing neck mane, and Roy had to stop her from tearing it out with her new long, black nails.

Roy gritted his teeth from frustration at his unpreparedness, unfastening his cuffs and the top buttons of his shirt and vest. He yanked his shirt, vest, and undershirt off in two tugs, tossing them to the corner of the room, and moved his body to wrap Riza in a cautious embrace.

“Inhale. Take the scent in,” Roy chanted, slowly nestling his head beside hers. Riza's hair smelled so strongly of _her_ he had to chew on his lower lip until it drew blood to keep his grip. “Exhale, one, two, three, four... Come on, inhale…” 

Riza sobbed convulsively, but eventually managed to recover some rhythm to her breathing, although her breath was interrupted by choked gasps. Drool dripped nonstop from her widening mouth, pooling on Roy’s hands.

“Riza.” Her ears - brown, and folded like a puppy’s - relaxed a bit, and Roy gulped. “I’m going to undress you now, or you’ll suffocate as you go.” Suddenly he was aware his Change was far enough along his speech was almost unintelligible, and hated himself for his slowness. “Let me?”

There was a sniffling, drooling silence for a few instants before Riza nodded and extended her arms, still trembling like a leaf. Roy murmured apologies and reassurances as he quickly, but gently, turned Riza fully on her front and took her clothes off, hastily folding them and setting the pile out of reach. 

He averted his eyes the best he could, and touched her as little and as briefly as possible, but there was no possible way to avoid her overpowering Were presence. It wasn't _sexually_ arousing - in fact, Roy’s mind was many miles away from any kind of lust. No, he was painfully aware of the slobber, gagging, and sweat of the trembling Were beneath him, the agonized sounds she made, and how she shrank away from everything, limbs twitching. None of that was sexy.

But he _was_ aroused. Roy wanted to be with her, all over her, to caress her pain away, to hug her so tight she'd only choke on affection. His Were instinct demanded him to protect this newly Changed Pup by any means necessary, to dote on her until she was capable of fending for herself, and perhaps further still. While that assistance could come by offering food, water, and proper sanctuary, Weres always felt the impulse to give physical comfort as well.

Roy was being pushed to his absolute limit in that regard while seeing Riza through her First Change. He _wanted_ to be a gentleman, to be correct, to follow the guidelines he already knew and had practiced before. He had planned to take her home from the station, properly introducing her to his aunt, and have her eat and hydrate before leading her to her room. He would explain the layout and calmly walk her through what was going to happen, keeping a respectful meter between them. He would answer her questions and give her privacy while they slipped into loose robes, so they would only need to be fully naked once in their full Wolf. 

Roy had imagined that he would be able to reassure her the entire time, and Riza would be relaxed at the sound of his voice. He would keep control, and be a competent Head Were who saw a Pup through her First Change. The smoothness of the process would make things a little less horrible between Riza and him. It would make her feel safer, after everything they had been through, and it would make him feel a little less filthy, and they would be fine. They would be _both_ fine.

Instead, Roy had allowed himself to lose his composure the moment Riza stepped out of the train. A serene, responsible Were would be able to steel themself just enough to do exactly what Roy had planned, giving both them and the Pup enough time and calm that the entire process would be a lot more effortless. Lamentably, Roy had failed in every aspect of that plan, dragged by Riza's aura. He felt more anxious and defeated at each passing minute.

It got worse. Roy straightened up in a spooked arc when he noticed, too late, that his legs were already completely bent and tangled up in his dress pants. He was Changing fast, very fast, and his crooked semi-bipedal posture was the only resemblance of his human form. He growled as he sat back, leaving his protective stance above Riza, and fumbled with the remainder of his clothes in a mess of discomfort. He heard the sound of ripping fabric as he struggled and kicked and remembered, in a flash of misery, that it was his best pair of pants.

Roy managed to grab the edge of the comforter with his pawed hands and cover Riza's body, wrapping her in it. He settled himself over her again, keeping his hips as high as he could. He was determined to at least make her as comfortable as possible, given the situation. _Breathe, Riza,_ he whined. _Focus on the lavender_.

Fresh scratch marks lined the short fuzz and skin on her shoulders from Riza's weak attempts of modesty when he took her top off, although she later shifted to tightening her arms against her chest. Roy nudged the side of her jaw with his muzzle, sliding further into the ruffled, swelling fur of her neck. Riza shuddered harder, panting. Her head and torso were almost completely a wolf’s at this point, with furry human-shaped limbs awkwardly moving. Her breathing soon became steadier for a while, despite her abundant mucus and tears.

Then her entire body bent out, rigid, and Riza screamed.

Roy felt his entire body flare with tension, his extremities stinging as they quickly curled in a lupine structure. He embraced Riza tighter against his chest. She wailed as if under torture, stretching her arms in confusing angles as her muscles and bones moved and snapped beneath her skin. In the back of his mind, Roy knew she likely wasn’t feeling as much pain as great pressure and discomfort, as well as complete disorientation. Her shrieks still made his entire skin prickle in agony, though.

 _Father!_ She bawled non-stop, clicking her teeth. _Mother, help! Mommy!_

Roy lowered his entire body against the comforter, pressing down her covered form. Riza pawed it away, now very close to complete her Change, struggling to wiggle free from the cocoon. The thickening coat made her even more slippery. Roy shoved his snout under hers, nuzzling her chin. Riza threw her sweaty head back, howling, and the jerking made her slide even more from underneath him. 

Roy nipped the tender skin at the upper part of her throat with his front teeth, and she stilled out of reflex. He took a moment to regain some composure before speaking - purring - again.

 _You're safe. Breathe._ Roy considered for a second, before releasing her neck and hesitantly running the tip of his tongue on the area. _You're a good girl._

Riza’s body was still spasming beneath his at intervals, her trapped tail bumping uncontrollably against his hind leg. Roy wanted to pull the cover down and have her snuggle against his skin, to turn her head towards him and lick the shock away. He wanted to kiss her silly and leave only the certainty of refuge. He wanted it, he _needed_ it, perhaps even more than Riza did.

 _I love you,_ panted Roy, finally surrendering. "Nothing can hide from the Wolf," went the saying, and the Wolf knew only of its burning heart. _Nothing can hurt you. I'm here._

It was only when tears spotted the mat that Roy realized he was weeping. Riza's gaze was hollow, thrills running up and down her exposed fur as she heaved, exhausted. Roy tried to clasp his paws around her as well as possible, licking the corners of her eyes.

 _Stay,_ she sniffed, closing her eyelids. _Please_.

 _Yes_. He crooned, pawing and kicking the covers down to coddle Riza. _Yes._

It was unadvisable, it was perhaps irresponsible, but Roy let his Wolf take over, and all reservations evaporated like magic. He caressed and kissed her face, her muzzle, her folded ears, grooming her damp mane with an attention he wouldn't dedicate to himself. A sigh came from Riza's lips as Roy laid completely on her, shifting and adjusting as best as possible for them to fit in an embrace. And then he let out a long, low cry.

They lay there for a long time, shivering. At some point Riza completely stopped gagging and flailing, laying in silence while Roy sang against her. He felt her chest vibrating seconds before she joined the melody with an uncertain whimper.

A tune eventually began to surge from their combined voices. Roy's low, hoarse howl coaxed Riza's clumsy starts until she managed to carry a squeak for long enough to form a duet. They sang together, learning each other's cues, for what could have been hours. When Riza's notes turned into a rasp and she stopped, Roy felt a pang of sorrow that they couldn't be like this forever.

She turned her white and yellow face towards him, her eyes tinged in blue and brown. _Pup,_ he smiled, and Riza lowered her puppy-like ears further in embarrassment, and gingerly brushed her nose on his. A chill ran down Roy's spine, and his tail thumped on the mat when Riza licked his lips, nuzzling against him.

 _I'm tired,_ she whined, as Roy covered her nose and mouth with kisses. Still, he got to his feet and nudged her to follow, guiding them to the area where food and water were set out for them. Roy made her drink and eat, mumbling encouragement whenever Riza got nauseous or bristled at the strangeness of tasting things in her Wolf. He taught her to parse and rip meat with her teeth, and he cleaned her messy face afterwards. They laughed together at how she tripped on the objects in the room.

After eating, Roy fetched a pillow and pranced around Riza, wagging his tail. He could see her pupils blown when she jumped forward to play. They ran in circles and rolled around, crashing against the walls, and destroyed two cushions in tug'o'wars. By the time Riza began yawning, Roy was satisfied. Her steps were still gangly, and she was physically and mentally drained, but she looked lively and relaxed in her newly discovered Wolf. He invited her back on the comforter, pulling it so they'd lay on a dry part.

Riza walked there and stumbled down in a mess of legs, still bewildered at how her body didn't completely obey her. _Good girl,_ Roy circled around arranging cushions in a nest, tail swishing, before settling down to spoon her. _Good, good girl,_ he chirped again, tickling her ears with his nose until she shook her head, mock-biting him.

When she fell asleep, Roy felt sadness again. He pulled further back into his Human, nearly starting to Change back, and pondered about the future - all the moments where he and Riza wouldn't be cuddling in that contented darkness. He thought about her climbing into a train to East City, miles away from the room they were in. He remembered she called him "mister" - no, worse, "major", and then "lieutenant colonel" - instead of simply not calling him anything, because they didn't need to. He considered that Pups rarely remembered much of their First Change, and felt ashamed for having slipped so deep into the looseness of his Wolf, like some kind of creep taking advantage of a vulnerable woman. Roy half-heartedly wished she had thought of someone else to ask to see her through this, and he took a second to be disturbed at the power of her aura over him ever since that night at the showers, in Ishval.

Riza stirred in her sleep, rubbing her back against his side. The Wolf reemerged from the pooling bliss inside his stomach. It chased the Human away, dragging Roy into the luring scent of lavender and the warmth of that moment, that moment, that moment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *soft awoo*


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: Descriptions/mentions of war crimes and murders, descriptions of animal death
> 
> Thank you, @lantur, for the beta.

_The next moment, he was in Ishval._

_There were shots in the distance, down Southwest, echoing like in a dome. The temple was being made into a mousetrap again. He had snapped his fingers to make it a furnace once. Alex had punched the walls to squash people hiding in alcoves another time. Yet Ishvalans kept returning there, scavenging or praying._

_He stuck his nose in the air. The dust felt acrid and warm in the direction of the shots. A smaller caliber gun - he couldn't tell which - was completely discharged in the North district. He turned one ear toward it, waiting._

_Blood misted the night, clearer than any shape his eyes were able to detect. He felt like howling, but he didn't. Enemies lurked everywhere, just waiting to trap State Alchemists suffering a Spark. Lupine physical prowess wouldn't defeat a blade or a rifle, and one's mind in the Wolf wasn't apt to deal with such an attack. No - he needed to get downhill, meander through the shrubs as discreetly as possible, and sneak beneath the cliffs, trusting the square sea of tents to hide his shadow on the way to the plain._

_He needed to kill._

_There was no such thing as silent nights in the backlands. Every creature awoke once the sun trickled away - animal, bug, plant, root. He heard the sinuous tracks of sand sliding beneath the layers of the cliff walls, seeking passage through rocks, carrying seeds that would hook into the poor soil and sprout in pure defiance. Steps and slithers threaded like water on the salty ground, and he kept his ears pointing up and his nose pointing down like Master had taught him._

_That wasn’t the kind of territory he was used to treading on, but when he began Changing against his will every three or four days, he had to make do. Lately, even something as innocuous as rust could Spark a Change in him, and racing mindlessly through the rough terrain had lost its appeal after a few weeks._

_An acid, musty scent caught his attention, and a thrill ran through his underfur. He halted, sniffing. His lips automatically stretched back, and the tip of his tongue felt the air around. Dust prickled his exposed gums. Inside his ears, every hair stood up._

_And the hunt enraptured him away from any semblance of the Human._

_It was a shrew; it was his. Sharp stones, spikes plunging between his toes, the dryness in his eyes, all to stomp and sink his fangs into that tiny spine, crunch that head near his throat, shred that colorless coat until it was warm and gooey and good to swallow._

_It was good, it was good, it was good, good,_ good _._

 _He plunged against the small form wiggling through a crack in the stone. His claws hacked the hardened soil around it, and he shoved his muzzle as far as possible, snapping his jaws. It was there,_ it was there _, but farther and farther away from his reach. He hollered inside the crack, shaking his body to impulsionate the rock apart, but the scent got less and less intense. His prey had run through a path deep inside the dirt, it had escaped._

_He let out a loud yelp, bristling away from the crack. Ants had climbed on his muzzle and were stinging it, and shaking his head did little to ward them off. He ran aimlessly, blinded by pain, stopping only to paw the bugs away from his face and rub his snout on the dirt._

_By the time the last ant was off, he had capered all the way to the outer boundaries of the camp, with his tongue hanging out and covered in dirt just like the rest of his body. He smelled like bitter salt and dry bushes, the tender skin beneath his paw pads and at the base of his ear raw and tender._

_He laid down in the shade, panting. It took him a long time to realize a soldier could see and recognize him, if he wasn’t careful. His burning throat made all worries vanish, however, as he got up and walked under the crescent moon, tracking the scent of water around the barracks._

_He dragged his feet slowly, following a deliberate path around the camp. The knowledge of his steps was something he didn’t care to understand where he had acquired. It served him well to avoid the sentinels, who didn’t seem alerted by the soft pace of a wolf._

“Psst!”

_He heard it very faintly, at first, but unconsciously paused. The second time was clear, though, and he twirled around, his dark back fur standing on end and his teeth drawn._

“No, no, no, shh. Quiet.” _The shape across from him, two leaps away, had arms that mixed with the color of the ground. He had known - he knew - that_ voice _\--_

 _The scent,_ that _scent,_ that _one, hit his nostrils like an unexpected embrace. He straightened up, baffled, and his tail began swishing with increasing speed. The arms reached out to him, uncertain, and he couldn’t think before strutting towards them and headbutting fully against her torso._

_It was Riza, and he wanted to hug her. That was easier, now that she was sitting down from the bump._

“Oof, you - no, don’t!” _Riza exhaled and gasped at his slobbering mouth, which was about to crash into her face._ “Sir!” _She hissed, grabbing the tip of his snout and closing his mouth shut._ “Can you understand me?”

 _He blinked and shook his head a few times to break free from her grip, but Riza let go before he could whine a protest. She pushed him off her with great effort, and found enough room to squat in front of him._ “Roy,” _she whispered, holding his head in place to look into his eyes._ “You’re very deep into your Wolf. Please pull back a little, sir.”

_Her eyes were dark and grey, when they should’ve been dark honey. The hands holding the sides of his head were strong, and the palms calloused, but he remembered them ghosting over his chest to unbutton his shirt and stroking the hair from his eyes. They were the same hands, the same hands he held against his skin in a daze, and those eyes were the same eyes, and her hair was styled with lavender oil._

_He was a State Alchemist in Ishval, the Flame Alchemist. He had Sparked that night, and several nights before that, and slid further and easier into his Wolf each time until the Spark subsided and he Changed back, exhausted and miserable._

_(She tentatively ran her hands on the sides of his face, feeling the rough, dirty fur under her fingers, and he felt shame and adoration and he thought he was going to die)_

“Sir,” _Riza whispered, her words and pauses clearer, more meaningful._ “This doesn't bode well for you, diving into the Wolf so much each time. If they catch you, you may even be dishonorably discharged for lack of control.”

 _She looked around, and lowered her voice even more._ “You… Stay in my tent - it’s only mine now-” _she sucked a small breath._ “- so there’s room for you. You can sneak back to yours unnoticed once you Spark back, now it’s so close.”

 _Riza backed down from his face, her grip on his fur loosening._ “How much do you understand, sir? Roy?” _She sighed, defeated._ “I can’t keep watching you run around like that anymore, and I don’t know how much of a dog you are now.”

_His name was Roy Mustang._

_He made her look up again with a tap from his snout on her hand. Riza was quiet for a stunned second when their eyes met, until she nodded, relieved._

_They would be sneaking back to her tent many other times, Roy realized, with a surge of sorrow. Riza served him water and brushed his outer coat, and Roy wondered how many nights it would be until she’d stop pricking her fingers on the spikes between his toes. In the end, Roy lay on the other side of the tent, aware of his nudity once the Spark ended._

_Riza wrapped him in a blanket and cuddled against his warm fur without a word. Roy Mustang smiled._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They _were_ sleeping, Maes.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW for this chapter: None that I'm aware of.
> 
> Thanks @lantur for the beta!

In the morning of the fourth day after Riza’s First Change, Roy heard clumsy steps down the back stairwell, and lifted his gaze from the paper. It took a few minutes for Riza to finally peek through the staff door towards the empty restaurant lounge, embracing herself over a robe.

“Morning,” he greeted. “I made pancakes.”

Riza blinked very slowly, grimacing at the sunlight seeping through the colored glasses in the windows. “How long did I sleep?” she slurred.

“Three days, on and off. It’s okay if you don’t remember waking up. You were never completely conscious anyway.”

Her eyes went wide through the sleepy frown. “I thought it would be over sooner. You were sick for only two days.”

“Three,” Roy corrected, folding the newspaper and getting up to pull Riza a seat. “And I was delirious throughout two of them. You had extreme fatigue and some fever, but nothing more than that.”

“Who changed me? My clothes, I mean.” Riza shot him a wary glare, although they had already talked about that during preparations.

“You did, with Chris’s help. She helped clean you, too. Liv, who’s worked here for years and is also a Were, gave you two a hand, but she didn’t see your back.” He made an appeasing wave as she sat down. “Madame Christmas asks no questions. You’re an alchemist’s child with an alchemy tattoo - stranger things have happened. But you can talk to her later, if you’d like. She’s just at the market right now.”

Riza seemed a little more at ease at that. Roy served her tea and beet and carrot juice, and shoved plates with pancakes, bread, and honey cake in her direction. They both sat in silence for a long time while Riza ate her breakfast with slow movements, trying not to overextend her weakened muscles.

Anyone looking from the outside would see a sleep-deprived young woman devouring a plate of blueberry pancakes, barefoot and haphazardly packed in a borrowed old robe. Roy silently celebrated. Even though Riza had been limp like a ragdoll for nearly 72 hours after Changing to her Human, she looked almost normal - if only a little morose - at that moment.

“How are you feeling? Any pain, anxiety, disorientation, nausea, excessive sweating, anything? Any bumps or scratches?” Roy asked in the most casual tone possible, grabbing a bun.

Riza stretched her neck to one side, then the other. “I feel like I did the morning after my first day in the Academy, but more intensely. Sore all over and full of bruises I don’t remember getting.”

“Good.” Roy nearly let _“good girl”_ slip from his tongue, and Riza glanced at him for an instant before returning to her juice. He cleared his throat. “In any case, any soldier who Weres is required to report it as soon as possible, and to present to a specialist who’ll do a thorough checkup and orientation. I advise you to do it as soon as you return to the Eastern Academy. Some symptoms and conditions may not manifest immediately and might not be identified as Were issues at first.”

“Yes, sir. I will,” Riza answered dryly, and fell silent again. Roy shifted in his seat, picking the paper up again, only to put it away a minute later. Pups didn’t remember how their First Change went down - usually. _Usually_ the Were seeing them through wasn’t a clumsy mess making undue confessions, either.

“Are you,” - Roy cleared his throat again, "-upset with me in any regard?”

Riza looked up to him, and her eyebrows shot up so high they nearly hid in her tousled hair. “Why do you ask, sir?”

Roy bit his inner cheek, and served himself some tea to occupy his hands. “You’re very quiet. I understand you’re just out of a convalescent period, but…”

“I am just up from three days of unconsciousness and amnesia, sir, and a First Change before that,” was her flat rebuttal. “I apologize if I’m being rude, but with all due respect, I don’t feel like making conversation.”

The pressure Roy made on his jaws as she spoke started making his teeth hurt. “Understood. Forgive me for overstepping.”

“No problem, sir.” With that, Riza dedicated her attention to her breakfast only. Roy drank his extra cup of tea and pretended to read the paper some more before excusing himself to the kitchen with his dishes. He washed them, then turned to the pile soaking inside the other sink. He returned to the lounge when Liv arrived and kicked him out from her kitchen between shouts about his poor abilities as a dishwasher.

By that point, Riza had her elbows at the table and supported her head on her hands, sighing in contentment. A small smile rested between her slightly squished cheeks. Roy hesitated, and concluded he should return to the back and go upstairs before she took notice of him.

He was midway towards the door he had come from when he heard her voice, still hoarse from disuse. “Sir?”

“Yes?” Roy turned back to the table, and Riza straightened. To his surprise, she made a gesture towards the chair he had been occupying earlier, and he obeyed.

Neither moved for a long moment, and dread began to ooze in Roy’s insides. Riza kept her gaze low, focused on some point of the tablecloth, hands clasped in front of her. She took a deep, resigned breath before she spoke.

“I don’t know how to begin, so I might as well begin with expressing my gratitude. Thank you,” - Riza lowered her head slightly, her eyes still averted from his face - “For taking care of me during my First Change, and helping me contain its start while we were deployed.”

Roy bowed at her slightly. “You’re welcome. I did what I had to do, for a friend in need.”

Her eyebrow twitched upwards very discreetly. Roy settled into his seat with his own hands clasped in front of him, mirroring her posture, waiting.

Riza inhaled again before speaking. “I’m not upset at you. But I am confused.”

Roy kept a straight face.

Creases appeared on Riza’s forehead, even though she was trying to keep a neutral façade. “I don’t understand,” she muttered slowly, choosing her words. “Why do I feel drawn to you the way I do. Sir.”

Liv had turned the radio on back in the kitchen, and the faint notes of a foxtrot reached the lounge. Riza stirred, turning her head towards the door with guarded curiosity for a few seconds, and Roy watched her ears growing slightly pointy. It was like watching a flower bloom.

Roy brought his intertwined hands to chin level. “Can you elaborate?” _Cadet. Hawkeye. Miss Riza. Riza._ There was no right choice after everything they had been through, he realized, with a twinge of despair. 

“I will try, sir. But it’s difficult to even begin to explain, even though I gave it as much thought as I was able after I knew I was Changing.” She clasped her hands tighter. “It’s not sexual or romantic in nature. But it’s… it’s _sensual_ , and intense, sir.” 

Riza kept her eyes firmly pinned on the honey jar between them as she spoke, but the flush in her cheeks was clear to Roy, through her paleness. “I noticed it back in Ishval. I believed it had started when you began staying in my tent during your Sparks, but after reflecting upon it… I think being drawn to you emboldened me to give you that shelter.” She let out a strained sigh. “I rarely saw my father in his Wolf, but when I did, I felt indifferent about it. You looked bigger and wilder than he ever did, and it was very unnerving to watch you prowl around the camp.”

The radio began playing an upbeat jazz. Riza’s almond-shaped ear twitched very subtly. “Still, I began wishing to watch you. Then I wanted to approach you, even though I was frightened. When I learned Weres that over-Sparked in the battlefield were being disgraced, I decided to act, sir."

Something hung in the air between them, almost tangibly. "Did you learn that after Radden's and Gill's incidents?" Roy muttered.

"Yes, sir." Riza finally met his gaze, the rings beneath her eyes looking darker than ever.

"I see." They let a few seconds run by before Roy spoke again. "Thank you."

Riza nodded and lowered her gaze again, to her hands. "When I finally did approach you, my uncertainty vanished. Not only that, it became the opposite. Wolf or not, I felt safe around you, as if it had been there all along beneath my caution."

She raised her head with a legitimately bemused expression across her face, her darkening nose wrinkled in exasperation. "And I wanted to be _close_ to you. I wanted to - I let you have my blanket those nights because I could snuggle against your fur. I know it was improper, it wasn't even very comfortable, but I didn't want _not_ to do it."

Roy let out a breath he didn't know he had been holding, closing his eyes. A voice echoed in his head, smugger than ever. _Perhaps you never stopped being a pack._

"That's why you asked me to see you through your First, even though you could've requested help at your Academy. Even though they are more prepared to deal with new Pups."

Riza's ears - its dark tips beginning to fold - dropped as much as they were able. "I hadn't even considered going through it without your presence. Sir."

"I didn't consider suggesting that option, either." Roy growled, bringing a hand to massage his front. It felt furry; he was mirroring her Change, _again._ "I'm afraid we are - have become, or have been since our youth - pack bonded. We're a pack."

Riza cocked her head, intrigued, in a classic Pup tic. Roy had to strangle his untimely surge of endearment. "Packs are - they're not like real wolf packs, because Weres aren't real wolves. But they feel like deep trust and camaraderie bonds towards a person or a group. Families, friend groups, troops, couples - they can and often do create pack bonds, and a Were can maintain a few at once, I think."

Riza squinted suspiciously.

"The Military makes great use of Weres in its lines for that reason, among others." Roy shifted in his seat, reaching for the juice jar. "It's like best friends, if best friends would almost unquestionably trust and help one another. See?"

He pointed at the glass Riza was pushing towards him. "You were the one using that glass. I took mine to the kitchen. And now you're offering me your own."

Riza pulled her hand away as if it had been burned. Roy smiled as she struggled to wash the spook from her honey eyes, now slightly tinged puppy blue. He poured juice in the glass. "It's a tendency - an instinct - not an absolute imperative. If you mind it, you can avoid being embarrassed in front of non-Weres."

"I see," Riza mumbled, placing her hands on her lap, still clearly preoccupied. "But why then - I mean," she straightened up again, looking down. "Why does it feel so _physical?"_

This time, Roy blushed with her. He had been in that delicate position before, tearing himself apart before gathering the courage to speak to Hughes, terrified of how a non-Were (a military cadet; a male; his _best friend_ ) would react to his impulses.

"Our kind is inclined to physical interaction,” he started, after taking a gulp of juice to center himself. “All types of touch, be it affectionate or aggressive. On the other hand, those of us who are touch-averse or Change during adulthood - or without guidance - may feel at a loss with this _need_. There isn’t much we can do but practice controlling it to fit in and not make things uncomfortable around non-Weres and Weres in their Human.”

Riza nodded, sniffing, and Roy wondered if she was aware of the soft cream fuzz covering her skin. It was always amusing to watch Pups Sparking so spontaneously, but the fact Riza didn’t seem to care - or notice - was a good sign. The initial stages of Change weren’t taking much of her energy, even so soon after the First.

“Also, it gets harder to ignore the further you slip into your Wolf,” Roy pointed out, and Riza’s eyebrow twitched again.

“I noticed, after you first tackled me at the camp,” she replied, her voice a little muffled due to the gradual growth of her muzzle. Roy’s (now pointing) ears grew hot, but Riza carried on. “You also explained to me how Pups cause other Weres to be protective. If we’re a pack, then I think that explains it. However…”

Roy lifted his ears as a wave of Change ran across his body, sensing the tiny shift in her demeanor. She sighed again. 

“I don’t know how to feel about this process and our relationship from now on, considering everything that has happened, sir.” Riza snapped her gaze upwards, piercing Roy knowingly, pinning him under the meaning of her words. “We have just returned. I just became a Were. It’s a lot to take in, for you and for me.”

Roy’s jaw ached with the sting of molding fangs. Riza tried to purse her lips, but she barely had any at that stage.

“I can be your guide,” he blurted out, before he could stop himself, “if you let me.”

Shame crept up his ribs, but it was muted by desperation. Roy knew full well she could hear, _really_ hear, what he was _actually_ saying, even if she didn't understand it consciously.

Riza stared deep into his eyes, clearly making sense of this reality, pulling it - him - apart, for perhaps forever. Roy didn't flinch, and he thought finally he could see a flicker of comprehension deep inside her soul.

And her cream-fuzzed, snouted face wrinkled in a scowl. Before she could open her mouth, Roy had realized she had seen right through him.

“Thank you for the offer, and for everything you’ve done, sir.” Riza declared firmly, her gaze piercing him like an insect. “But I must decline. I shall present myself to my advisor back in the Academy, and request guidance there.”

Something unsaid lingered after those words, like guns pointing at Roy’s head. His raw Were nerves could barely bear to look at her at that moment. Her eyes had lost the blue patches as she subdued her own Change. A ridiculous part of his mind remembered that was remarkable, and a great sign, and Roy felt that one praise - _good girl_ \- rolling in his mouth again. He bit his tongue.

That's when he _knew_.

She _remembered_. Perhaps not clearly, and she might have been unsure before. But the intensity of his offer - plea - would have made her certain of it. What he saw in her stare was that confirmation.

Riza remembered her First Change.

Roy washed down the overwhelming shame with the rest of his juice in long gulps, and then settled back with his hands intertwined. He prayed she didn’t notice they were trembling, because it would be impossible to stop his voice from wavering.

“Very well. Is there anything else I can do for you now?”

Riza reached inside the robe’s pocket, and took out her wallet. She counted the bills inside, and placed them in front of Roy. “For the brunch.” 

She got up so abruptly the chair almost fell back. When she looked back at him, the folds on her shrinking ears were already tiny, and the fuzz had nearly completely disappeared. At that second, Roy saw _her_ again - Miss Riza, _Riza_ , the entire person he had known once and had believed gone. A person the war hadn’t managed to kill, and the Wolf hadn’t managed to eat - just the opposite.

“Thank you again.” Riza bowed. “I’ll graduate from the Academy in three months’s time. I shall keep in touch.” She looked at him with an inescrutable expression. “Sir.”

Riza would wait for Madame Christmas to arrive before she left. She walked out of the back door at noon wearing the same clothes and canvas backpack she had arrived in, and Roy watched her catch a taxi. She saluted him goodbye. He reciprocated, and got inside as soon as the door closed behind her.

Even _then,_ Roy could hear her barefoot stride echoing away from him. Even then, he could hear the swelling of the song on the radio when she opened the door to the kitchen and failed to close it properly behind herself. Even after she left and he rushed upstairs in violent bounds, when he tossed his clothes on his bedroom floor and screamed through a wolf mouth, he heard her _choosing_ how to refer to him, when he had been unable to all along during that nightmarish conversation. She _chose_ , she was able to _choose,_ when he would give anything to not call her anything again, lost forever in the lull of their Change, finally free.

He raced through the streets in downtown Central every night for a week after that, and howled about the sand, the flames, the sun, the sweet smell of death - anything, everything but her name.

  
  



	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW for this chapter: Non-sexual, non-explicit nudity
> 
> Thank you, @lantur, for the beta,

Eight months later, he could be found racing in East City instead.

Among the staff of the Eastern Headquarters, Lieutenant-Colonel Roy Mustang was known as a war hero and a gentleman. Some boomed about his easy companionship and his charming laugh, some whispered about how he perhaps planned to slither instead of climb ranks. All talked about the charisma that could light up the entire presidential residence, although not many knew that was exactly his intention.

Roy Mustang had hit the ground running from Ishval, and he didn’t stop - once a week, he Changed into his full Wolf and went sprinting in military facilities and parks. He had committed to heal from this constant Sparking, and managed to reduce them to once every two weeks in only six months after returning from the front. Medical guidance and lifestyle reeducation were fundamental for that advancement, but so was the support he received from Hughes, Madame Christmas, and his new subordinates in the HQ. Two of those happened to be Weres.

Roy always raced alone.

Him and Second Lieutenant Riza Hawkeye were on good terms, or so he believed. Once he had been given his place in the Eastern HQ from Central, Roy had gotten word she was to be assigned a clerk in the same place, and offered her an alternative. A path connecting that day at Berthold Hawkeye’s grave to the present, where their roles would be reversed. She accepted, and became his first subordinate at that new stage of their lives. Roy also soon discovered Riza Hawkeye was an efficient assistant aside from a great bodyguard, and he mused that, perhaps, he was the one hitting the jackpot.

To his absolute relief, though, their relationship settled into a comfortable professional partnership. Both of them tacitly agreed to make an effort to halt and ignore each other’s cues. Both dove into the never-ending tasks in Intelligence with a drive that inspired and intrigued other units, and Roy drowned his own suspicions why they were so aligned. It could be chalked up to their attuned goals, and he preferred to think that was the case.

But Roy was grateful Hawkeye was behind him almost all the time. He couldn’t help but to sense her presence on his back, though her aura was practically undetectable while they remained in their Human. Roy still began wearing more cologne to drown her familiar scent, for good measure. He was sure that time, daily interactions with other people, and the lack of personal contact would eventually mellow their bond down. Perhaps - who knows - she'd find another pack soon, or even had already. They could make that distance permanent. They could undo what they never chose to have in the first place.

They never talked about any of their past, at any time, until an evening two months after they had begun working together.

“I made a request back in Ishval,” Hawkeye unexpectedly murmured to him before she left. “As manners go, you made an offer, too, in the last pages of my journal.”

“Yes?” Roy had been writing in his own journal, and hesitated, caught unguarded by her bluntness. (He shouldn’t; she had never been any different) “Yes. I remember it.”

“You don’t.” Hawkeye corrected, adjusting her overcoat and grabbing the door handle. “Because I made two requests that day. And I got an offer covering both.”

Roy studied her for a long moment, and she did the same to him.

“Alright,” he finally conceded. “But in three months’ time, when autumn settles. It's too hot now, and we’ll have time to both plan out a leave without raising suspicions,” he quickly added, when Riza opened her mouth to object.

“Yes, sir,” she said, instead, turning the handle and saluting before leaving the office with only one occupant. “Goodnight.”

Roy Sparked that night. He zigzagged between the trees of a hidden, battered park in the most dubious part of town for hours on end, and he cried about fire. Still, he didn’t howl her name. When he Changed back, naked and filthy under a graffitied oak, he swore to keep that and any other relapses as quiet as he possibly could.

He needed to focus, and focus he did: by the time September rolled around, Roy believed he had come to terms with the situation, despite a few other excruciating, albeit less dramatic, Sparks. He had begun racing in his Wolf twice a week, too, choosing lonelier venues - the Upper Boulevard, the abandoned gymnasium, the outskirts of town - where finding other Weres and getting distracted - or Sparked - was much more unlikely. It was risky for other reasons, but he didn't need other worries as he attuned his inner state to the task he had ahead of him.

A semi-abandoned plaza downtown had been his choice earlier that Thursday in September. He informed Hawkeye where he’d be around lunchtime, just like any Were told at least one person their whereabouts in their Wolf just in case. She nodded and scribbled the address down, as usual, and the day carried on with no surprises.

Roy left the HQ that evening at the usual time. It was chilly when he finally arrived at the beaten-up street - a discreet place children and lovers had abandoned long ago, and only a couple of passed out drunkards seem to acknowledge now. He parked his car at a hidden corner, opened the driver’s door, and stretched, yawning, feeling every single one of his articulations popping. He then sat back and began Changing, calmly undressing as his fur thickened in pulsing waves.

“Sir.”

The chill that ran down Roy’s spine made him jerk forward in an instant. His fangs and claws fully speared out from his tissue in a spurt as he looked around, ears flattened back. His startled roar had been so powerful the drunkards on the benches woke up, alarmed, and fled in uncertain strides from what they probably thought was a Sparked Were.

Hawkeye was standing a few meters from his parked car, wearing a satchel bag and a brown overcoat he didn’t recognize. The relief that washed over him was only comparable to the immense annoyance at having been caught in a vulnerable state, especially by someone whose presence he (once) knew so well.

“That’s why people go to Changing spots, sir. You’re safer among peers.” She chastised, guessing his thoughts. Roy turned his head away, puffing and licking his sore cuticles. Hawkeye approached the vehicle and opened the back door, throwing her bag on the seat.

“What are you doing here, Lieutenant?” Roy growled dryly as he returned to lean against the driver’s seat, running his rough paw-hand down his hair and mane to straighten it down. “Taxi must’ve been a fortune.”

“It was.” A zipping sound made Roy finally pay full attention to his subordinate.

She shook her overcoat off, and his head spun. Her _scent_ , the thing he had been avoiding the most, was fanned directly at his sensitive mid-Change nostrils. Roy’s fur stood up all over again. He watched, stunned, while Hawkeye tossed the coat and her boots on the back seat.

When he could find some focus again, Roy noticed Hawkeye was already undressed underneath the overcoat. He realized she had arrived to meet him already covered in thick yellow fur, her profile denouncing she was already passing mid-Change. Her big, svelte shape had just settled on the ground when Roy finally registered how muffled her voice had been just earlier.

“What are you doing?” He managed to babble, completely taken aback.

No response came, only grunts of discomfort while Hawkeye’s legs and hands finished bending and twisting in place. Roy warily continued his own Change, watching her in astonished fascination, until the snaps of bone and tissue became rare between the two of them. They both finally rose to their four feet, and Roy jumped on the cracked asphalt from his seat. He kicked the doors locked and watched Hawkeye shake and stretch, chasing her tail and bouncing to warm up in the Wolf body.

He followed her as she walked towards the abandoned garden at the plaza to pull and crush twigs in order to unclench her jaw. Her ears twitched as he cautiously stepped closer, but she didn’t pause her task. Roy stood beside her, bewildered as he rarely was, as she continued to ignore him, acting like they met in those circumstances routinely.

In a sudden movement, Roy lunged forward to bite the tip of the twig she had just begun chewing and pulled it from her at once, clasping it between his teeth. Hawkeye looked up, surprised, and lowered her ears a little when his stare bore through her skull.

Roy had never asked if Hawkeye ever Changed with anyone at her side, or if she had been to Change dates, or if she spent her Sparks alone. He had never asked who had been her guide, if she had made friends in East City, if she was seeing anyone. He had never invited her for a night like that one, and neither had she. Her arrival at his Change spot, all Changed herself and ready for a sprint, was absurd and intoxicating in every way Roy was able to feel.

Hawkeye lowered her head, then her upper body, and approached from beneath his jaw. Roy stood still, tail high and ears perked up, as she used her nose to tap underneath his chin, then the side of his muzzle.

It was only when she tentatively touched his nose with hers that realization began dawning on him. Roy straightened his head and gave one step back, dazed, and Hawkeye became immobile, gasping a whimper.

She - 2nd Lieutenant, Hawkeye, Miss Riza, Riza, it didn’t matter now, it was _she_ \- had misunderstood his withdrawal with rejection. Roy dropped the twig on a whim and jumped forward a second later.

It was her turn to flinch momentarily when he nuzzled the inside of her ears with his nose, making her squeal and bristle in sequence. He laughed at the small, almost unnoticeable fold at the tip of her left ear - _Pup_ \- and let the Wolf wash away the distance, the avoidance, his carefully constructed composure. Roy whined a strangled lament, rubbing his muzzle along her neck like a saving grace.

He inhaled deeply, searching, until he finally found it: the scent of lavender she had a garden of once, and that she once styled her hair in, and that they had shared in the bedroom of her First Change. Roy chased the cynicism away and chose to believe it was trapped forever within her skin. He had missed it so, so much.

Riza shuffled beside him, and Roy snapped from the blind depths of the Wolf. The reality of what he was doing poured on him like rain. He pulled away from her just enough to be face to face, a question in his gaze. There was no more blue in her eyes, and she looked just like _herself_ in her Wolf - grown, determined, the Riza that had survived.

But nothing could hide from the Wolf. Nothing could stop any of them from being true, because the Wolf knew only of its burning heart. That was their greatest strength as Weres, and their most shielded weakness.

 _I miss you_ , Riza whined, so softly Roy doubted he had heard it right at first. _I'm all ready now. And I miss you._

She looked down, playing with the destroyed twig pieces on the pavement with her paw. Roy watched, drinking her movements in. He could feel the thrills dripping beneath his skin, seeping in his innards, tying his bones and strings together up under layers and layers of scar tissue.

 _I miss you too_. Roy leaned in, slowly, and Riza met him halfway. They touched the sides of their snouts. _I'm sorry_.

Riza leaned in further, licking the corner of his eye. _I know_. She hesitated, and Roy felt his heart filling up with acute, raw anticipation for _something_. 

When Riza finally leaned in to repeat the gesture on the other eye, the howl he breathed out felt like blossoming: tender, low, a purr down his chest. Riza snuggled her face against his, chests touching, and joined in a relieved cry.

There would be a lot to be talked about, dealt with, discussed and agreed in their Human, later, perhaps - Roy barely thought about that. The present lasted like a balm as they sang together, stronger at each start, nuzzling one another at intervals. Everything else was everything else.

Not a soul appeared to interrupt their singing, or any moment afterwards, so they stayed in their Wolf for a long time. Both knew neither had Sparked, and they revelled in the pleasure of choosing to be there, running, snapping twigs from shrubs, playfighting, chasing pests. They slipped further and back in the Wolf, making up games and cuddling for short naps on the rough terrain of the plaza, for what seemed like days.

It was the darkest hour of the night when they returned to the car and began Changing back. Roy sat on the driver’s seat and reached out for a basket full of treats he kept on the passenger's floor, and they shared sweetened cold tea and biscuits. They finished eating and remained in a contented silence, her in the back seat and him leaning on the steering wheel, both half-dressed and satisfied.

"Do we talk some other time?" Roy finally asked, looking straight through the windshield at the darkness looming over them, again. He felt it trickling inside the car at each passing second while Riza contemplated the question.

He heard her heavy sigh behind him.

"Some other time," she hummed, tired. "Someday, maybe."

He smiled against the black leather. "Sounds good." He then turned his head, catching Riza with her knees drawn to her chest, and frowned. "Don't put your feet on the seat, it's brand new."

She blinked in surprise, and then snickered - it wasn't _that_ giggle, but it was close enough for now - hugging her knees tighter instead. "Just drive, sir. You have a meeting at nine.”

Roy grumbled something under his breath, turning on the ignition. “At least put some socks on. Your soles are darker than the pavement.” 

“I don’t want to soil my socks, sir.”

Roy shot her a glare through the mirror. Riza smiled widely, chuckling through her nose, and he quickly turned to look outside. They had rolled down the windows, but Roy knew like he knew his own name that her scent wouldn’t be as easy to get rid of as dirt on his seats.

Nor would her laugh, or her dark honey eyes, or her entire presence. He didn’t mind it. He didn’t mind it at all.

“I won’t give you a ride back when we run again, that way.” He _heard_ her attention being caught.

“As long as it’s not as deserted as that plaza, I think I can deal with it. I heard even the Upper Boulevard is less suspicious.”

“True. Monday, then.” Roy lowered his voice. “Bring some old socks along.”

“Yes, sir.” He looked at the rear view mirror again. Riza had nestled her back in the nook between the seat and the window, watching the night zoom past them with half-lidded eyes. 

Roy smiled, and they drove back into the city.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading. This fic carried me through a depressive episode, and I hope it made you as satisfied as it made me.

**Author's Note:**

> Say "awoo" if you liked it.


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